


Easy Like Sunday Morning

by moonkid28



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Background Relationships, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkid28/pseuds/moonkid28
Summary: It’s not that Will doesn’t like the Farmer’s Market.It’s that he doesn’t like the people who go to Farmer’s Markets.





	Easy Like Sunday Morning

To be perfectly clear: Will did  _ not  _ hate working at the farmer’s market. He had a grumpy face, okay? Working at the farmer’s market was something close to the best part of his week-- setting up early when the sun was just rising, talking quietly to the other vendors-- and plus, he got a lot of sales, most weeks, since there weren't many other fish vendors at the market with him.

 

But the people? He… wasn’t a fan of a fair amount of people.

 

Farmers markets attracted a particular type of people, unfortunately, and he already wasn’t a people person. 

 

Rich people who shopped at thrift stores for their “aesthetic”, who wore Timberlands when it wasn't cold, bitched about dirt off the pumpkins getting on their white pants. They drank expensive ass coffee and lived in neighborhoods that he'd never fit in and would probably be mistaken for the help in.

 

But other than that, Will loved the farmer's market. He loved Sam and his apples in the stall across from him (he hid the crispest ones to share with the other vendors afterwards), who pulled out beers to pass around during lunch and brought hot coffee for them in the mornings and flirted near-unconsciously with almost every customer he got. He thought the world of Jules, three stalls down, and that magnified tenfold when they made their buttermilk cake doughnuts, dipped in vanilla bean icing, and how their booth always had a few dogs lingering around because of their specialty treats. He adored Etta just beside him, who, at six foot five, was both the tallest and the awkwardest person he'd ever met but was strangely funny in her own right. It was even funnier when her wife, Rosalind (unfortunately a quite a few stalls down) came over and loitered at her stall and pretended to be a customer looking over the tiny, intricate woodworkings. Rosalind was maybe four foot ten and sold pickled vegetables and chocolate dipped fruits, and was in the business of embarrassing Etta so severely that had her skin, already a mosaic of different tones from her vitiligo, went splotchy and red in places and she hid her bashful smile with the gap between her front teeth behind her hand. 

 

(“Every time she looks at me, I feel like i've got hives,” Etta had mumbled to him after Rosalind had left, blowing a kiss and bestowing a chocolate rose upon her.

 

“Etta- what does- what does that even mean?” Will had asked, bewildered.

 

“Face too hot and my throat swells up. Also, I told my parents I was queer when I broke out in hives for the first time as a kid because I thought I was going to die.”)

 

So yes. There were pros and cons of working at the farmer's market, but at least he had friends.

 

_X_

 

“How many hours until lunch,” Sam moaned, waddling past Will with a huge crate of apples. “I'm starvin’, gingersnap. My stomach is eating itself.”

 

Will snorted quietly, which turned into a yawn, and he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “Can't help you there. All I have is raw fish.”

 

Sam swung his crate of apples up on the table and let them settle with a loud  _ WHUMP!,  _ one or two of them bouncing out of the square confines and to the temporary freedom of the dirt ground below. “Damn.”

 

“You should ask Jules,” Etta supplied. She frowned briefly at a string of tangled twine before working her nimble fingers through the mass. “They got here when you were getting more apples from the truck. At the worst, you could eat organic homemade dog food.”

 

“I'm not eatin’ dog food, Etta. I'm not goin’ back to that time in my life.”

 

“ _ Back?”  _ Will asked, incredulous.

 

Sam gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher, then smiled oddly. “I'll tell you one day what I did before I got here.”

 

“Ate dog food, apparently,” Dex muttered, but left it at that to ice his fish for the day. He let Etta fiddle with the old radio on the table they'd stuck between them for their personal items until some old rock station floated quietly between them, then rhythmically sliced open bags of ice, lifted them up, and poured them over the display before slapping them and their labels down until his fingers were numb and he could hear the first wave and chatter of customers that meant their day had truly begun. 

 

Farmer's market. Yeah, it was still the best part of his week.

 

_X_

 

Another nice thing about the market was that there was no real rush. It was just a Sunday morning, easy, the regulars coming and going and the newbies willing to take their time to see everything. 

 

He did have a  _ few  _ people he liked. Mostly regulars-- Eric, or Bitty, who ran a bakery somewhere a few miles away, Jack, who Will was at least ninety percent sure was Jack Zimmermann, hockey legend, and a hundred percent sure that he and Bitty were married, Camilla, some athlete or another, and Georgia Martin (“Just call me George,”), who had definitely been an Olympian. Will had maybe had a poster of her on his wall as a kid.

 

He hadn't seen George or Camilla today, but the morning was still young.

 

“Hey, Bitty coming up on my left,” Will called over to Sam. He perked up instantly from where he'd been glumly looking over a few bruised apples and eagerly looked over the crowd. It took him a while, but when he found him, his smile grew wide.

 

Will’s lips turned up, a crooked smile over them. “I’m pretty sure Bitty is married, Sam.”

 

Sam looked slightly abashed, but only slightly. “Do I look like i've got a crush on ‘im?”

 

“You look like he could tell you he needs a whole crate of apples for two quarters, a piece of string, and several strands of hair and you would say yes without asking why,” Etta answered.

 

Sam gave her a flat look. “A guy can dream, Ets.”

 

“I don't want to know what your masturbatory fodder is, Samuel.”

 

Sam sputtered loudly and Dex cackled, head tossed back in mirth. “Etta, you fuckin’-”

 

“Hey, y'all! Oh, Sam, sweetheart, what's wrong?” Bitty asked, instantly concerned, and Will could only laugh harder, covering his face with both hands.

 

“Nothin's wrong, Bitty,” Sam sighed. “I just have shit friends. What can I do you for-- oh, fuck, dammit.”

 

Etta was giving her little honking noises now, a combination of laughing, snorting, and literal honking sounds, half quiet, half bursting out of her, hand clapped over her lips, and it only fueled Will’s laughter until they were both bent over howling and even Sam had a begrudging smile tugging at his lips. Jack and Bitty looked confused, but no one could resist Etta’s laugh, and Bitty had a bewildered half-smile twisting the corner of his mouth. Jack chuckled softly. “Gonna let us in on the joke, eh?” he asked Sam, and Sam shook his head, bemused.

 

“It's been a boring day and I was  _ apparently  _ a little overexcited when I saw Bitty- er, Eric. Will over there, the asshole, implied that I had some kinda crush or another on ‘im.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“No, Jesus, Eric, díos.” Sam looked really embarrassed now, but admitted, “You're my favourite customer. You don't feel up every damn fruit in the bin and I know you're serious about the questions you ask me, not shit like ‘were these apples victims of cruelty’ or whatever the fuck qué Janine asked me last week.”

 

“Oh, honey, that's so sweet,” Bitty said, beaming. “Jack, ain't that sweet? Goodness, I never thought i'd be someone's favourite customer.”

 

“I think you're a favourite at that coffee shop you get all those lattes at,” Jack chirped, and Bitty rolled his eyes, lightly tapping his arm.

 

“This boy. Let me give you this pie, I said i'd give you some last week if I got around to making it-- I managed to save half of it from Mr. Bigshot Athlete.”

 

“Bitty, you didn't have to do that,” Sam said, surprised, sounding immensely pleased despite his protests. 

 

“Of course I did, you hush. Have to take care of my favourite apple vendor, now, don't I?”

 

Dex fought down his grin, watching pink bloom in Sam’s cheeks and his smile practically split his face. Etta caught his gaze, long fingers retwisting one of the little buns her hair had been in-- bantu knots, she'd called them?-- her tiny smile bright and her dark eyes sparkling.

 

“So, you're sharing that, right?” Will asked casually after Bitty had left. Sam flipped him off.

 

_X_

 

By about eleven, Will had made decent haul, and nearly half of his fish was gone. 

 

“Early break?” he asked Etta and Sam, and they nodded. 

 

“I'll text Rosalind and tell her to bring Jules with her,” Etta said, phone already sliding out. “We can eat under my canopy, it’s the warmest.”

 

“I'm down,” Sam agreed, shrugging, and he started to cover his apples with blankets before Etta said abruptly, “Latecomer.”

 

“What?” Dex asked, looking up from the ice bins, glancing around. “Etta, I don't--”

 

Oh, shit.

 

Oh,  _ shit. _

 

A guy was ambling down the middle of the vendor’s booths, slow and easy, his laugh wafting down the aisles like music or the scent of good food. Ambled was  _ almost  _ the right word, but he somehow made the grass and dirt aisle a runway and his lazy walk a modelesque strut.

 

“Who's  _ that _ ?” Rosalind’s voice asked from behind him, confused. “Etsy, you don't usually call me when there are still people around…”

 

“He's a… latecomer,” Will said, dazed. His eyes were caught on the way his shoulders strained under his soft-looking green henley, muscles tensing with the weight of his bags, all paper. Jesus  _ fuck _ , he was hot: copper coloured skin and dark curls, a strong jaw, one deep dimple as he laughed at something someone said; he was built from top to bottom and on every inch of him Will’s eyes caught and stayed for a few long moments, all the way down his long legs— strong, thick thighs and defined calves that ended in a pair of strappy sandals. Even his goddamn feet were nice, and Will stared when he noticed his toes were painted a crisp white. A little girl with inky black hair in two buns on either side of her head and pretty almond shaped eyes crinkled with happiness ran up behind him, a nutcracker clutched in her tiny grasp, and the man scooped her up with one arm, smiling fondly at her and brushing their noses together in a little nuzzle until she shrieked with laughter.

 

_ Porn for Women _ was definitely onto something, but they had nothing on this guy.

 

“He's a  _ hot _ latecomer, what the fuck? Why is he so damn good looking? I'm a good person, I don't fuckin’ deserve this,” Jules complained, and Will snapped out of his daze, going pink.

 

“He's alright,” Will said, shrugging and avoiding meeting anyone's eyes.

 

“Will, are you, like, blind?” Sam asked. 

 

Rosalind nodded sagely. “I mean, you know where my preferences are at and  _ I’d  _ let him dick me down. I mean, I like dudes, but Etta’s--”

 

“ _ Rosie!” _

 

“I'm just saying, i've never seen--”

 

“Ten bucks says he's a hipster,” Dex said roughly.

 

“He's coming over here!” Jules said, darting behind Sam’s stall to stand next to him, and Will hid behind his fish stall, hoping he wouldn't be noticed.

 

“Oh! He sells apples!” the little girl in his arms said, leaning towards Sam’s stall. Sam smiled at her, picking one up and offering it to her.

 

“Here you go, princess,” Sam said.

 

“Titi, can I get it?” the little girl asked, and he sounded amused, voice rich and deep and a little scratchy when he said, “Take a dollar out your wallet.” She proceeded to pull out an adult’s wallet in leather, looking very important about it, and held out the dollar to Sam.

 

Sam chuckled, plucking the dollar out of her outstretched hand and once again offered her the fruit. Hot Dude shifted so that she could reach out and take it, knocking over a few things. 

 

“Shit, sorry,” he said lightly, dropping into a squat with the little girl and the bags still in his arms; nearly against his will, Will’s eyes dipped to catch a glance at his ass.

 

Of course, it was fucking perfect: round and firm-looking and thick enough to grab a handful of. 

 

“Jesus fuck,” Will muttered, and Etta looked at him accusatorily. 

 

“You  _ do  _ think that he’s attractive,” she said sharply. He hissed at her to be quiet, just as he put the apples back, stood, and turned towards them.

 

“Fishies! Titi, fishies!”

 

Hot Dude smiled softly at the little girl, and Will’s heart went all fluttery for a second. Never in his life did Will think he would be jealous of a five year old, but here he was, wishing he was under that radiant smile. “Yeah, chubby cheeks, fishies. Food fishies, not pet fishies.”

 

“Fish are friends, though,” she said, confused.

 

“Fish sticks, Amelie.”

 

“Oh! Can we make fish sticks when we get home?” Amelie asked excitedly-- Hot Guy looked conflicted, and he glanced up from the fish directly into Will’s eyes.

 

Dex stared, frozen in place. Hot Guy’s eyes were a deep green, framed by dark, thick lashes. On top of that, his brows were nicer than Etta’s, and Rosalind got hers done every month on their day out together.

 

Hot Guy looked a little frozen as well, eyes flicking over him.

 

“Titi? Can we make fish sticks?” she asked, tugging on his shirt, and he shook himself, eyes snapping back to her.

 

“Uh, yeah, chubby cheeks. Here, go look around a little, chyeah? Titi’s gonna, uh--” Hot Guy’s eyes flicked to Will’s stand-- “Look at some fish for fish sticks.”

 

“Okay! Down,” she said, and Hot Guy bent at the waist to ease her onto the ground, again showing off his frankly fucking fantastic ass, then watched as she wandered off a few stalls away.

 

He turned back to Will and smiled in a way that he could only describe as pretty. “Hey,” he said, offering his long-fingered hand to shake now that he had a free one. Dex took it, growing hyper aware of his calloused hands in comparison; still, their handshake was firm.

 

“I, uh-- name’s Will,” he said awkwardly.

 

“Nursey- er, sorry, haha. Derek,” he said. “So used to saying my hockey nickname.”

 

“You played?” Will asked, surprised, though maybe he shouldn't have been-- he thought back to his body and the surety of his walk and went a little pink.

 

“Chyeah. Derek Nurse, number twenty-eight. D-man.”

 

“We would've been blueliners together,” Dex said. “William Poindexter, number twenty-four. Call me Dex, if you want.”

 

Derek, or now, Nursey, he guessed, smiled brilliantly at him.

 

“So,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “How in the shit do you make fish sticks?”

 

_X_

 

Nursey, it seemed, was not only hot, but incredibly fucking annoying, really, really funny, and  _ exactly _ Dex’s type. He kept leaning in too close, hands brushing over the ice and the fish until Will smacked him away, at which point he would say, “Chill, dude.”

 

“If you kept your damn hands out of my goods-” he would start, and then Nursey would say, “Your  _ goods?” _ and Dex would be a red, flustered mess all over again. 

 

Was he flirting? Was he chirping? He had no clue and it had him a little pissed off, but then Nursey would give him that pretty, pretty smile, and he couldn't be mad.

 

Eventually Amelie came back, hands full of little gifts and chocolate smeared over her face, looking up at Rosalind in pure adoration.

 

“Titi, Miss Rose-lin gave me chocolate flowers,” she said, and Nursey scooped her up, tutting softly.

 

“Your face is a mess, chubby cheeks. What would Mama say?” He pulled a black cloth out of his back pocket-- was that  _ silk?  _ and proceeded to wipe her little face with it attentively until she stuck her tongue out and said “ _ Enough _ , Titi, I am a grown child,” which made Nursey laugh too hard to be reasonable.

 

_ Mama.  _ Dex’s heart clenched a little. Of course he wasn't flirting, he was just being nice-- or he was like Sam, who flirted with everyone without even knowing-- it was crazy of him to think someone like Nursey would flirt with someone like him.

 

“You're married, then?” He said, a little brusquely.

 

Nursey looked away from Amelie, looking surprised. “N-no, why?”

 

“I mean, you do have a kid, and you said mama. It's reasonable, isn't it?”

 

“Who, Amelie? Oh, God no- I mean, if you count godparents then yeah, but no! I'm just her godfather. Her dad went to highschool with me- no, i'd be a terrible dad, Jesus fuck- oh, shit, Li, you didn't hear that, did you?”

 

“A dollar in the swear box,” she said imperiously. Nursey sighed.

 

“I'll give you a five later, kiddo. No, i'm definitely- I'm single, brah. My partner broke it off like, last year, i'm single as hell. Like, not by choice, but yeah.”

 

Will looked at him. “What do you mean, not by choice? You're…” but he cut off, going pink again.

 

“I'm what?” Nursey asked.

 

Sam yelled towards them, likely in revenge for Will’s earlier stunt with Bitty. “He thinks you're hot as  _ fuck _ and he wants to—”

 

Jules slapped a hand over his mouth. “Ignore him. Will, please stop looking at Sam like you're going to run him through with a fish gutting knife.” They smiled nervously at Will’s frankly murderous gaze, elbowing Sam in the stomach when he tried to raise a middle finger up at him.

 

Amelie frowned at him. “No knifing with titi. He’s not allowed to have knives, so no knives,” she warned, and his glare melted off his face, sort of. He felt chastened, though the girl couldn't have been older than maybe five.

 

“No knives,” he sighed, agreeing.

 

Nursey snickered. “Yeah, Dex, knives are bad.”

 

“Shut up or i'll give you the wrong kind of fish,” Dex snapped, even though he was already packing his fish into the brown paper he used with everything and tying it off into a neat bow. His hands moved deftly despite how embarrassed he was-- he was really going to murder Sam, honestly-- but he managed to slide the package of fish over without looking at Sam or Nursey.

 

“Thirty-two ten.”

 

Nursey handed him a twenty, a ten, a five, and then dug a dime out of his tight jeans. He handed back his three dollars silently.

 

“Hey, uh…” Nursey looked conflicted, glancing from Amelie to Dex and back. “Chubby cheeks, go see how much the vegetables cost.”

 

“Mkay! Down.” He set her on the ground, and then watched her go before turning back to Dex.

 

“You think i'm good looking?” he said quietly.

 

Dex glanced to Etta, who looked smug only if you knew her. Her hand was over Rosalind's mouth, but he could still tell she was smiling.

 

“I think if I asked every person you talked to in this farmer's market, they'd all admit to being half in love with you,” he said noncommittally. Blush was creeping up his neck. 

 

Nursey made some noise. It sounded… frustrated. “I didn't ask about every person in the farmer's market. I asked if you, the hot guy who just taught me how to make fish sticks for my four year old godchild-slash-niece, found me attractive, because i've been flirting with you for the past twenty minutes and blatantly asking you if you'd hit this is the only more obvious thing I can think of.”

 

Will gaped at him for a solid minute, or more likely a few seconds, then before his brain could catch up to his mouth said, “I mean, if you're offering--” and then clapped a hand over his mouth.

 

“Shit, I don't mean that. I mean I do mean that, but not in that way. Or. Uh…?” he glanced at Rosalind and Etta and then Jules for help, but only Jules spoke up.

 

“He doesn't fuck on the first date,” they supplied.

 

“ _ That,”  _ he said, relieved, then sighed when his brain caught up with his ears. “Wait, shit, not- Jules, damn it.”

 

Jules looked smug. “Got the message across, didn't it?”

 

“Yeah,” Nursey murmured. He let his eyes skate across Will’s face, down his body, back up to meet his eyes and then worried at his lip slightly with white teeth that would almost be perfectly straight if it weren’t for his oddly long canines. It was cute, which he was absolutely disgusted with himself for noticing. “Yeah, I don’t either. Not if I think there’s gonna be a second date.”

 

“Who said there’s gonna be a first one?” Dex said, because he loved to put his foot in his mouth, clearly.

 

“We do, because you’re a tight-ass,” Rosalind said.”A lonely tight ass who needs to get laid and be the little spoon.”

 

“That was a  _ secret, Rosalind,”  _ Dex hissed.

 

“You were drunk and it is  _ true!  _ And you're not a-spec, you care about sex, just because you don't jack off--”

 

“STOP, ROSALIND.”

 

“You guys get drunk together?”

 

“Why don't you invite  _ us  _ over for drinks?”

 

“Titi, what's ‘jack off’?”

 

Everyone stopped, freezing as Nursey looked down at the little girl.

 

“You know what sex is, right, Chubby?”

 

“Kinda. Mama says it's sometimes nakedy.”

 

“Yeah.” Nursey looked pensive for a moment, then bumped her nose gently with a hand. “That's what you call it when people with penises get nakedy by themselves.”

 

Jaws dropped. Dex stared with wide eyes, his own mouth slightly open.

 

“Mkay. Are we done chopping?” Amelie asked.

 

“Yeah, Chubby. You need a snap.”

 

“Wait, you just….  _ talk about sex _ ? With your kid?” Jules asked, flabbergasted.

 

“She's gonna learn about it anyways, isn't she? And she's not mine, i'm her godfather. Her parents don't give a shit. You heard her, she already basically knows what it is.”

 

“I wouldn't consider ‘nakedy’ solid knowledge of sexual activity, pero whatever floats--” Sam began.

 

“I'm right here! Nakedy means you're using your generals, I know what it means,” Amelie interrupted irritably. “S’not just no clothes and that's it. That's why there's a ‘y’ on the end, because it's special.”

 

Nursey grinned. “See? She knows. Dex, do you think you could help me get all this stuff to the car? If you're busy, I can probably handle it, but--”

 

“You knocked over an apple and you have a child in your arms. I'll help.”

 

Nursey’s answering smile was blinding.

 

_X_

 

It didn’t take long for them to load Nursey’s car— an old Subaru he’d gotten from one of his mothers (“She’s a lesbian. Of course she wanted a Subaru. Plus, they have a really good safety rating, and she’s really protective of me.”)— up with his purchases. 

 

“You wanna get into the car by yourself?” he asked Amelie.

 

“Uh-huh,” she said sleepily. She squirmed, trying to loosen herself from her godfather’s grasp, and he eased her to the ground, chuckling.

 

Will and Derek watched as she scrambled clumsily into the car, sliding a few times— Will tried to reach for her, but each time, Nursey stopped him.

 

“She likes to do it alone,” he murmured. “She’ll get mad if you help.”

 

Will frowned, but allowed Derek to back him away from the little girl.

 

Eventually, Amelie managed to get herself into the seat, all buckled in, and Derek stuck his hand out, allowing her to slap it with as much force as her little arm could muster up.

 

“I’m gonna talk to Dex for a second about private stuff, okay?” he asked gently. “Can I close the door?”

 

She stared at Dex for a moment. He raised a brow— only with this strange, uncomfortably attractive man, it seemed, would he be given up to genuine scrutiny by a four year old. “...only if you be safe,” she concluded, then grabbed for the door and slammed it shut.

 

Or tried, anyways. It mostly landed just a little firmer than the average door, and he snorted, grinning.

 

“Was that my shovel talk?” he asked, amused; Derek’s laughter bubbled up from low in his throat and spilled over them both with the lightness of champagne.

 

“I think it was,” he said, still laughing. “I think she respects my autonomy, though, which is pretty nice.”

 

“I’m sure,” Dex murmured. His eyes skated over Derek, gaze warm and sweeping.

 

Derek made a quiet noise that might’ve been a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can’t just look at a guy like that,” he said softly.

 

_ God, was he  _ **_blushing_ ** _?  _ Will felt his gut swoop just looking at him.

 

“Not my fault you’re standing here looking like this,” he said. 

 

“Like what?” he teased, still pink in the cheeks.

 

Dex grinned, stepping into his space— Nursey backed into the car, but his eyes were lit with interest, and Dex’s hands came up, palms flattening on either side of his hips against the car. “It’s bad form to fish for compliments, Derek,” he said slyly.

 

“Oh, you’d know, fisherman,” Derek retorted instantly, and Will grinned, shark-toothed.

 

“Smart mouth,” he answered.

 

“You like it.”

 

“Yeah, well. No one ever said I had good taste.”

 

Derek laughed again, that bubbly, pretty noise, and his heart fluttered with it.

 

“You gonna kiss me?” he asked, that smart mouth curved with the softest half-smile. “Or you gonna keep standing here talking shit?”

 

“You like it,” he breathed against his lips, leaning in, and Derek closed the distance with a grin that tasted like lemon chapstick.

 

They kissed; Will’s lips were rough, and a little chapped against Derek’s own soft, plusher ones— his tongue swept against their mouths gently, soothing the rough spots, and Derek opened up for him quietly, a slow satisfaction under his skin; his finger hooked into Will’s belt loop, tugging him closer. 

 

Will’s hand rose and cupped Derek’s cheek, thumbing at the stubble carefully as he kept their kiss purposefully soft. He could’ve sat there, devouring this man before him for hours and hours, until his lips were as raw as his own and the breath in his lungs was long gone. Nursey made a sound low and rumbling in his throat and he hummed quietly, nipping at his bottom lip—

 

“Titi!” Amelie’s little voice squeaked out, and they jerked apart, caught children in a staircase.

 

“Yes, Chubby?” Derek choked out, red-faced.

 

“Are you being  _ safe _ ?” she demanded, head sticking out of the door.

 

“Yes!” he said, sounding indignant. “Mind your business, bossy.”

 

“You are my business,” she said, and Dex shoved his face into Nursey’s neck and burst into laughter.

 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing and shoving him away, and Dex kept laughing, doubling over with it.

 

“Jerk,” Nursey said warmly. “I can’t believe I just made out with you.”

 

“Uh, you didn’t sound mad when you had your mouth—”

 

“ALRIGHT,” Nursey said loudly. “Gimme your number and stop antagonizing me.”

 

“What’s annanonicing?” Amelie asked.

 

“It’s when you’re being a pain in the- in the butt,” Derek said, snorting and grinning. 

 

She nodded. “Stop being annanonicing,” she said, looking at Dex, and he grinned.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered seriously, and she nodded at him, then shut the door again.

 

“So,” he said, grinning.

 

“So,” Derek answered, grinning right back.

 

“Phone numbers?” Dex asked, soft, hand coming up against Nursey’s cheek once more. 

 

He laughed quietly, pulling out his phone.

 

“Phone numbers,” Derek agreed, tilting his head to press a kiss into his palm. 

 

As he withdrew it to put his number in, skin flushed, Will knew that for the rest of the day, he’d be warm with the memory of the man’s touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I haven’t gone here in forever lol. 
> 
> Anyways ! I just wanted to post something kind of soft and sweet since I haven’t been posting much. This felt like a nice way to get back in the saddle, especially since it was an older piece I got to finish and polish up a little.
> 
> Please love my OCs. They mean so much to me and I want to put them in other things. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for more nonsense and also me yelling, which is also nonsense, but saltier.


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